





:l 



'^.f. 



X 



V"' 



V 



'^k^ 









\.'*5'k' 























. o 




'^^^ 



>^- 









m^m<^im 



OF 



«»KlliilillilllH^^ 



A SOLDIER OF THE REVOLUTION. 



BY HIS GRANDSON, 

K. M. HUTCHINSON 



rocii:e:ste:r: 

william alling, printer, 
18 43. 







r 



^''^a* 




PREFACE. 



EvEKT tiling relating to the history of our foi-efathers, is worthy of being- 
preserved. And the biography of those individuals who lived in the days 
of our Revolution, are perused by us with great emotion and interest, be- 
cause we are anxious to possess a knowledge of the minds and characters 
of those men who were actors in its trying scenes. 

In perusing the lives of individuals of that period, for instance Wash- 
ington, in admiring his generous principles and glorious destiny, what pat- 
riot does not feel himself pi'ossed forward by invincible resolution in his 
heart, tn equal his patriotism and virtue. Yet the deeds of his devoted 
countrymen who acted upon the same theatre of life with himself, are 
equally conspicuous and noted for the devotional spirit of patriotism they 
evinced in staying the proud waves of British oppression, and command 
equally from us our highest expressions of gratitude," emulation, and es- 
teem. 

Many of the incidents of our Revolution have received, in addition to 
their inherent value, the polished air of romance and fiction, which has 
given them more the appearance of fabulous achievments than of real ad- 
ventures. The stoiy of many of the heroes of that eventful period, who 
have passed the threshhold of time " unknown and unsung," if given to the 
world, would surpass in interest the brightest productions of fictitious ro- 
mance. 

The subject of the following sketch, in the memorable and terrific con- 
test for liberty which gave rise to our present national existence, bore in its 
dangers and privations a distinguished share, although not at any time no- 
ted by any great or brilliant display of military tactics. For narrations of 
this kind, who does not have a peculiar regard ; and who does not feel his 
heart instinctively light up with patriotic fire, as he listens with riveted 
attention to some genuine old patriot who loves to " fight his battles over 
again in story?" It has been my peculiar fortune to be favored with the 
social intercourse of such an individual ; and often has my youthful heart 
been so elated by his recitals, that I almost wish that war, with his shielded 
bristling front, would come again, and the wild savages' yell ring in my 



i 



ears as the sweetest music, that I might tell for what deeds of noble dar- 
ing mjf heart was formed, and what a hero I was in other days. It is 
with a view to gratify the large circle of friends of Mr. H., who are very 
solicitous that the narrative should be written and. published, that has 
induced me to imdertake the task. In its performance it shall be 
my highest aim to introduce nothing but the plain, simple, and honest 
truth, believing that the approbation of every individual who may 
peruse it, will be more happily secured, than if I attempt to introduce any 
thing of an improbable or romantic nature ; for truth, in whatever situation 
it is found to exert its influence, contains, to a virtuous mind, suiBcient 
merit to rivet the attention and secure the approbation. 




GEN. ISRAEL PUTNAM. 



BIOGRAPHY 



The subject of this sketch was bora in Lebanon, Connec- 
ticut, July 4th, 1T56. At a suitable age he was sent to a 
district-school, where he acquired a good common education ; 
but according to his own statement, books were not his great- 
est friends. Hunting, his favorite employment, possessed 
greater attractions for him than the rugged paths of science. 
Yet this mode of life gave him a constitution better fitted to 
sustain the hardships he was called to endure in subsequent 
life, than the one he probably would have acquired in the 
school-room. About this time a strong friendship was for- 
med between him and a young Indian whom President Whee- 
lock was educating, intending him for the missionary field. 
From him he acquired many traits of the Indian character, 
which were of most esssential importance to him in his sub- 
sequent intercourse with the Indians, during his captivity. 
But little did he or his Indian friend imagine that they should 
ever meet in future life, under circumstances so far different 
from these, as the reader will find to be the case if he is pos- 
sessed of sufficient patience to follow me thus far through 
the narrative. At the age of sixteen he was sent to learn the 
blacksmith's trade with a Mr. Nathan Hovey, who lived in 
Canada, a small town taken off from Old Lebanon. He 
continued in this employment, until April, 1775, the glorious 
year when first the spark of heaven-born Liberty was lit up 
in American soil. 

The news was borne to him of the battle of Lexington 
while engaged at his work, and immediately with all the 
aspirations of an ardent temper, he threw down his hammer 
and determined to consecrate his services to the interest of 
his distressed country until her liberation was achieved. 
Without any claims which could give him the hope of 
receiving a commission, he presented himself at head-quar- 
ters, equipped in every way adequate for a private soldier. 
He enlisted ; but, on account of his inferior size, being very 
small of his age, he was excluded from the ranks, and his 
1* 



6 

iiame stricken from the roll. This was a damper upon his 
fervent expectations of future distinction, yet something more 
would have been required to dispirit him. or to avert him 
from his design. He requested his name might again be 
registered ; but with the same unfortunate success. Upon 
his third application, however, he was more fortunate. The 
officers, noticing his intense zeal and determined resolution 
to follow the army, acceded to this expression of his desire, 
without any manifest reluctance ; and he was accordingly 
mustered into a division of Gen. Putnam's brigade, com- 
manded by Ensign Abner Robinson. That detachment to 
which Mr. H. was joined, were a newly-raised corps, con- 
sisting principally of farmers and mechanics, who knew no- 
thing of the hard chances and trials of war ; yet the blood 
of their countrymen had been spilled on the plain of Lex- 
ington, and they had cheerfully left their families and homes, 
and come with a determination to avenge their death. And 
they were not long allowed to be idle. Information being 
communicated of the arrival of British troops at Boston, the 
drums immediately " beat to arms," and the words " every 
soldier at his post," cast a gloom over the minds of this body 
of raw militia as they were preparing to enter upon the 
doubtful chances of military life ; and many a stout heart 
beat throbbingly as they bade adieu to all they held dear or 
sacred on earth ; and many an eye was lit up with the gleam 
of hope, but too soon to be covered with the film of death. 
Hastening with all possible despatch, the troops arrived at 
Bunker's Hill on the 17th of June, and were nearly the first 
to volley " death's leaden hail," quick and decisive into the 
ranks of the enemy. The terrible carnage which followed 
and the glorious victory which ultimately crowned the manly 
endeavors of the American soldiery, bear ample testimony 
of their undaunted bravery, and the heroic and intrepid spi- 
rit of their patriotism. After the consummation of the vicis- 
situdes of this memorable day, the surviving portion of the 
army retreated across to Charleston Neck, and quartered at 
Cambridge. 

Soon after arriving here Mr. H. was stationed as a sen- 
tinel upon the road, with strict orders to let no one pass, 
whether friend or foe, without showing his passport. He had 
not been in this situation, long before he saw coming, at no 
great distance a person mounted upon a black charger, 
whose appearance evidently bespoke him to be an officer of 
some distinction in the American army. Approaching with 



the greatest familiarity, the officer addressed him. " My 
lad," said he, "are you the guard?" "I am, Sir." "I 
declare," continued he, " you have a fine gun there— let me 
examine it." So, without any hesitancy, he delivered up his 
gun for inspection. Having examined the lock and inqui- 
ring if it was loaded, the officer handed it back to him with 
these words : " My lad, you have betrayed your duty. Do 
you never again, if upon guard, deliver up your gun to any 
man, even as you now have done to General Washington 
himself" Then, showing his passport, he galloped away. 
Stung to the quick with this keen I'eproof, our hero resolved 
from that time to obey his orders to the letter. It was not 
long before he had a trial of this determination ; for General 
Putnam, in a blustering sort of a way galloping up to him, 
inquired if General Washington had lately passed ; and be- 
ing answered in the affirmative, was passing on. " Stop," 
cried our senLinel ; '• your paper, Sir, or you pass not here 
while I am guard." Putnam, fumbling in his pockets, found, 
to his great dismay, that he had left it ; and, informing the 
guard of his situation, and that he had business of pressing 
importance with Washington ; and without any other cere- 
mony, put spurs to his horse. '^Stop," again cried the 
guard, "dismount, Sir, or you are a dead man." Finding 
there was no other alternative but to dismount, he did so ; 
when our hero conducted him safe into the camp, where not 
only Washington, but Put himself highly extolled him for 
the course which he had taken. 

Mr. H. remained here until the expiration of his time 
of enlistment, which was eight months, when he returned 
home. But to an individual of an active disposition, and one, 
too, whose appetite has been sharpened rather than gorged 
by the enthusiasm of the battle-field, pressed on also by the 
desire of sharing the laurels of victorious achievments, no 
greater punishment can be inflicted, than to be obliged to re- 
main inactive while so great a field is spread out before him 
for immediate action. The American Revolution presented 
such a theatre for enterprise and heroism, and Mr. H. was 
anxious again to become an actor on its tragical stage. 
Having always had a great inclination for a seafaring life, 
he sought by every practical means in his power, to gratify 
his desire. At this time the ship O. Croniwell, commanded 
by Captain Timothy Parker, was fitted out for the privateer- 
ing service by the State of Connecticut, on which he embar- 
ked, Nov. 1776, and set sail for the West Indies. 



No event occured unusual to the career of a seaman's life, 
in this cruise ; and he accordingly returned with the rest of 
the ship's company in six months after setting sail. They 
had not been long in port, when Captain Parker determined 
again to try his fortunes upon the sea. They accordingly, 
on the 23d of March, spread their canvass to the breeze, and 
sailed again for the West Indies. It was about the middle 
of April, said Mr. H., that our gallant ship was rocking in 
a heavy surge, the only vestige left of the gale we had just 
encountered, but which had gradually died away into a per- 
fect calm. The ship's crew were moving sluggishly about 
the deck, all lamenting the quiet stillness which reigned 
around them ; for, to a real sailor, nothing can be more an- 
noying than to feel a deathlike stillness pervading the at- 
mosphere, or to behold the sea with a smooth and glassy sur- 
face. Their spirits seem to partake of the general tranquil- 
lity of the scenery around them ; but they are awakened 
from their lassitude into life and activity, by the first whis- 
perings of the breeze. Not long did time thus hang heavily 
on the crew of the O. Cromwell ; but something of more im- 
portance, however, sprang up, than a gale, to awaken into 
energy their languid spirits. 

The Captain had been pacing the deck for some time, con- 
stantly surveying the horizon with his glass, from every part 
of the ship, when suddenly he settled down to a reclining 
posture, and gazed with marked attention at a dark speck 
that just skimmed the farthest point of the horizon. Ap- 
proaching nearer, it increased in dimensions, and soon dis- 
closed to the staring eyes of our crew, a fine British vessel, 
bearing the name of the Bristol. On her crimsoned flag- 
staff proudly waved the haughty Lion of England, who seem- 
ed to look down with disdain upon our ship. But in a short 
time it was satisfactorily illustrated that he whose strength 
and prowess was the motto and boast, in comparison with 
the then first belligerent nation on earth, was not invulnera- 
ble. Captain Parker bore down upon the Bristol, and poured 
into her a broadside, which was immediately returned. The 
action now became general. Quick and decisive were 
broadside after broadside exchanged between them, and 
dreadful was the slaughter they effected. Thick and fast 
fell their comrades around them, yet their fall was unheeded. 
Nought else engrossed their attention but the defeat of their 
enemy before them, whom fortune had favored with heavier 
ordnance and a greater number of men ; but had reserved 



9 

for them the sure harbinger of victory — a righteous cause and 
the bravest hearts to fight for it. 

The battle was carried on with untiring vigor, for three 
hours and a half, when, to the great surprise and joy of all, 
the enemy struck. The O. Cromwell had 13 men killed and 
27 wounded. The number slain on the Bristol were infi- 
nitely greater, but the correct number was not asceriained. 
In the latter part of the action Mr. Hutchinson was greatly 
disabled by receiving a wound on his leg below the knee, 
caused by a splinter flying against it, which was severed 
from the ship by a cannon-ball. From the effects of it he 
had never fully recovered. The Bristol was found to have 
on board, a wealthy merchant, his wife, and two daughters, 
who had a letter of Marque, and were destined from Eng- 
land to St. Kitts. She was of 620 tons burden. Captain 
Parker sent her into Boston as a prize. 

The O. Cromwell needing cleaning, and some necessary 
repairs from injuries she had received during the late con- 
flict with the Bristol, they steered for Charleston, South Car- 
olina, for the purpose of refitting her. They remained here 
until they had recruited and repaired the ship, when they 
set sail again, on the 25th of July. 

Nothing occurred that is worthy of notice, with the O. 
Cromwell, until about the middle of August, when they en- 
c^ountered a severe storm from off the Bahama Islands. The 
top-mast was swept away, and the ship at one time was so 
nearly under water, that the crew were obliged to lash them- 
selves to the rigging, to prevent being washed overboard by 
the mountain-waves that swept over them at intervals, threat- 
ening at every moment to swallow up ship and crew, without 
any ceremony, into the raging deep. The storm at length 
abated ; and by splicing their mast, and remedying other de- 
fects and injuries sufficiently, they ventured to steer for home 
without lying too at any nearer port to refit. On their way 
they fell in with a vessel that had been driven by the storm 
from St. Augustine, and was steering for New- York, where 
the British army were then lying. She had but a few men 
on board, and no commander ; he and the rest of his crew be- 
ing on shore when she was driven off. There were a num- 
ber of large anchors and cables on board, beside three or four 
hundred casks of sea-biscuit, and five hundred bolts of top- 
sail duck. They made her a prize, and brought her safely 
into New-London. 

Bidding a final adieu to the Captain and crew of the O. 



/ 



10 

Cromwell, he turned his steps homeward, where he arrived 
in a few days after his departure. He remained here with 
his friends, until March, 1780, when he went in company 
with a number of families, to Vermont, and with them com- 
menced a settlement in Tunbridge, Orange county, on the 
East branch of White river. Mr. H. purchased a tract of 
land, on which he labored during the summer, making such 
improvements as he was able, until October following, when 
a party of 203 Indians and 7 tories, was sent from Canada to 
destroy Newbury, a town in Vermont, and to take revenge 
on one Whitcomb, who had been guilty of mortally wound- 
ing a British officer for the sake of obtaining his watch and 
sword. Nearing the place of their destination, they were 
met by a party of hunters, who informed them that the citi- 
zens of Newbury, by some means unknown to them, having 
heard of this expedition, had sent their women and children 
to a fortified place lower down, and had prepared themselves 
to give them a warm reception. This caused them to change 
their course to this settlement, which they attacked in the 
gray of the morning, on the 16th of October, 1780. The day 
before this had been one of great rejoicings, as a number of 
young men (and Mr. H. was of the company,) were intend- 
ing to depart the following day for Connecticut, where they 
were to be married, and remain until spring before they re- 
turned. 

No doubt the war-whoop of the Indian sounded fearfully 
in the ears of those who had laid themselves down that night 
in peace, and giving loose reins to their imaginations, had 
reveled in dreams of coming joy and happiness. Yet those 
halcyon imaginings of future bliss were suddenly changed 
into the sad reality of savage captivity. These few families 
who composed the settlement, were poor. They had left be- 
hind them the homes of their youth, to seek one in the wil- 
derness, far away from many of their friends and relations, 
and all that they held dear in this world. They had trav- 
elled far through forests, uninhabited except by wild beasts, 
and had here at last planted their standard of improvement. 
Soon the forests echoed to the unwonted sound of their axes, 
and comfortable dwellings, as if by magic, sprang up from 
the trees that were fallen. Yet there was an enemy at hand, 
who soon was to break in upon the rising progress of this set- 
tlement. — an enemy who, like the vengeful snake, sought to 
destroy his prey in a most unguarded moment. Innocence 
then has no security from harm, but shares with the guilty 
one common fate. 



11 

The Indians, having arrived at the settlement, with fiend- 
ish yells and very little ceremony, commenced splitting open 
the doors of the houses with their tomahawks, and dragging 
the helpless occupants from their beds, unmindful of their 
cries or entreaties. Here a sturdy Indian grappled Mr. H. 
by the throat while in bed, and with his tomahawk flourish- 
ing above his head, with a menacing voice commanded him 
to dress immediately ; when he was closely pinioned with a 
strong cord which they had brought for this purpose. The 
savages, in plundering the houses, secured for themselves 
whatever was valuable or pleasing to their fancy. The 
looking glasses they saved ; and one Indian was so delighted 
with a valuable plaid silk dress which Mrs. Curtis, the sister 
of Mr. Hutchinson, possessed, that he took it from her and 
hid it in his pack. But she, watching a favorable opportu- 
nity, boldly extricating it, took it away, and wrapped it 
around her waist under her other garments. But he, how- 
ever, observing her, was so pleased with the trick, that he 
generously gave her back another dress which he had taken, 
as a present. 

The savages appeared to be more desirous of destroying 
property and exercising a malignant disposition toward the 
settlers, than putting into requisition a more cruel one to the 
injury of their persons. The brother-in-law of Mr. H. pos- 
sessed a very valuable grinding stone, which he had been at 
great cost and pains to procure. Yet this, on their being in- 
formed it was the only one in the place, the " ungrateful 
dogs" broke in pieces. They amused themselves, also, by 
tearing open the feather beds and throwing their contents 
into the air, and filling it with horrid laughter, as though 
that was the happiest time their whole life had ever witnes- 
sed. But the half-naked and terrified settlers might very 
appropriately exclaim with the frogs in one of L'Estrange's 
fables : " Although this may be sport for you, it is death to 
us." The savages were very humane and polite towards 
the women, not being desirous of capturing them ; and much 
to their credit, they carried them clothes, as they stood trem- 
bling with fear outside the houses. 

After burning the houses, and demolishing every thing 
that came in their way, also taking three prisoners, Mr. H., 
his brother John, and Mr. Joseph Havens, they started for 
Royalton, a village situated on the White river, a few miles 
below. They had not proceeded far on their way, before 
they espied two men crossing a piece of meadow-land, lying 



12 

adjacent to the stream. One of these they shot, but the other 
secreted himself so securely under a log that they did not 
discover him, although they passed over it several times in 
their search. 

Hastening onward with all possible speed, leaving the dy- 
ing man weltering in his blood, they at length arrived at 
Royalton. This place they also destroyed, sparing neither 
life nor property. They killed two men, Mr. Button and 
Pember, and took twenty more prisoners. But not sat- 
isfied with this, after wantonly destroying every thing they 
were able to, they re-crossed the river, leaving 21 houses to- 
gether with their furniture, to be consumed in the flames. 
Among the houses that were destroyed was one belonging to 
a widow woman, Mrs. Handy, the mother of a stout, athletic 
lad, who was her only support and the solace of her declin- 
ing years. She had guarded him with a mother's care, in 
his weakness ; and the comfortable house in which she lived, 
and the snug little farm in the rear, showed that she had la- 
bored to establish for him a goodly heritage. Yet she saw 
her dwelling laid in ruins, and, worse than all, her son, the 
jewel of her care and attention, become a victim to savage 
captivity. No sooner had the Indians started on their jour- 
ney, than the almost frantic mother flew to the side of 
the river, and, plunging in, with great effort succeed- 
ed in gaining the opposite shore ; and, hastening onward 
as fast as muscle and limb could carry her, she soon re- 
gained the Indians, from whom, with all the eloquence of 
feeling in a mother's heart, she requested that her son might 
be liberated. She told them that he was not able to endure the 
fatigues of so long a journey ; that he certainly would die be- 
fore he reached its termination. The Indians, struck with 
admiration at the boldness and zeal of her eloquence, hesita- 
ted not to deliver up to her the object of her solicitude. And 
such was the ascendency she had gained over their feelings, 
that all of her neighbors' children, also, which they had ta- 
ken, at her desire were released. But, not satisfied with 
this, she made an effort to secure the liberation of the men ; 
but the Indians were mexorable. She, wishing to detain 
them as long as possible, in hopes that Captain House, who 
was stationed with a body of men some miles below, would 
hear of the attack and hasten to their rescue, requested the 
Indians to convey the lads back across the river. They, sus- 
pecting pursuit, continued on their journey ; but left, how- 
ever, one of their company to perform the service she had 



' 13 

required of them ; which he did, and was hastening to re- 
gain his companions, when the old heroine called to him and 
requested the like conveyance. The Indian laughed heart- 
ily at her desire ; but he however returned, and, taking her 
upon his back, landed her safe upon the opposite shore. 
Then, re-crossing the river again, he gave a loud whoop and 
disappeared in the woods. 

Intelligence was immediately conveyed to Captain House, 
who with his men hastened to pursue the " spoil-encumbered 
foe," and to rescue if possible the unfortunate prisoners. 
One of the Indians was killed, and others wounded. Here 
the^savages killed a number of the prisoners, and sent a mes- 
sage back to the Americans that, in case of a farther pur- 
suit, all the captives would be put to death. While they 
were deliberating as to the best course to pursue them, the 
Indians secured their retreat up the second branch of the 
river. Night pressing upon them, they encamped for the first 
time in the South part of Randolph, where two more of the 
prisoners were killed, viz.: Kneeland and Gibbs. The prison- 
ers passed a sleepless, restless night. 

The morning found them in an irritable mood ; and, see- 
ing two of their companions wantonly murdered without any 
apparent cause but to indulge their captors' barbarous thirst 
for blood, they could harbor no other thought but that a sim- 
ilar fate awaited them. These poor pedestrians were heav- 
ily laden with the spoils which had been taken ; and their 
burdens added to the fatigues of the rugged road they were 
obliged to travel ; and it was only by extraordinary effort 
that they were able to sustain its weight. The load which 
Mr. H. carried, consisted principally of looking glasses, 
which were bound to his back by means of cords and withes, 
the ponderous weight of which, after the third day, he was 
unable to bear. On the morning of this day, an Indian, ob- 
serving his miserable condition, brought him a pint of clear 
rum, and insisted upon his drinking the whole of it, saying 
that it would make him strong. Mr. H. however refused, 
knowing that so large a quantity would make him drunk, 
and in that condition they would be obliged to leave him be- 
hind, and it was more than likely that they would kill him, 
fearing that he might return and thus betray their course. 
The savage, upon Mr. H. refusing to comply with his de- 
mand, endeavored, by placing the bottle at his month, to 
force its contents down him. But he still refusing, a severe 
struggle ensued between them, in which, his antagonist be- 
2 



14 

ing the strongest, gained the ascendency. The brutal sav- 
age seized him with an iron grasp at the throat, as he lay- 
beneath him, and raising high his glittering tomahawk, with 
the fire of revenge kindled in his eyes, and giving strength 
to every muscle, was about to bury in the brain of his vic- 
tim the fatal weapon so often stained with the blood of the 
innocent, when his arm was suddenly arrested ; but the wear 
pon, as if anxious to perform the deed which its master was 
deprived of doing, cleft the air ; yet its course was erring, 
and it sank deep into the earth, just escaping his head. Mr. 
H., opening his eyes, beheld, bent over him, the Indian friend 
of his former years, with whom he had spent many a happy 
hour in the shady gloves of Old Lebanon. The friendly 
Indian severely reprimanded his companion for treating Mr. 
H. so harshly ; he also relieved him of a part of his load, and 
gave him a good meal of victuals ; and he, from that time, 
as well as the rest of the prisoners, shared equally with the 
Indians themselves. We see in this remarkable circum- 
stance, an example of that noble trait of the Indian charac- 
ter, their never forgetting a favor, at however remote a pe- 
riod it might have been conferred upon them. Yet the lus- 
tre of this virtue is often dimmed by the spirit of bloody re- 
venge, which excites them to many wanton outbreakings of 
bloody violence for the slightest and remotest provocation. 

From this place they passed through Brookfield to Onion 
river, the course of which they followed to its disembogue- 
ment into lake Champlain. Taking here the canoes they 
had left, and following along the shore of the lake, thence 
down Sorelle river, they found themselves, nine days from 
their departure, in the city of Montreal. Here, the prison- 
ers, being exchanged for eight dollars a head, were passed 
over into the hands of the British. By them they were con- 
ducted to a dark, stone prison, and made to subsist on nothing 
better' than one pound of poor horse-beef and one pound of 
bread per day, for one whole year. Methinks that ye are 
startled at this, ye sons and daughters of refinement — ye who 
revel in the luxury of palaces, who dwell in the security of 
cities ; and call it all a fable, a transient dream. 0, how 
few of you are capable of forming any adequate conception 
of the severe toil and hardships that were endured, to secure 
to you the rights and privileges oi freedom and independence. 
It is an observable fact, that the American people are fast 
losing that stern virtue and enterprise, so much the charac- 
teristic of their ancestors. Fashion has reared here many 



15 

of her fascinating temples, where thousands pay their humble 
devotion. Her enchanting spirit has corroded the finer feel- 
ings of many an enlightened soul ; and caused those senti- 
ments of attachment which were given to them for ennobling 
purposes, to lavish their superior excellence on useless finery. 
I blush to see so many of my young countrymen, possessed of 
reason and understanding, who have not yet leai^ned the pro- 
per use and application of those ennobling faculties of the 
mind, which, if cultivated and directed in their proper chan- 
nel, would buoy the young intellect up above the silly flat- 
tery of gay, ostentatious butterflies of fashion, and give it a 
taste for those things which are the proper food of a virtuous 
and well cultivated mind. But to return. 

During the interval of this year, Mr. H. became almost 
wholly destitute of clothing, so that the severe coldness of the 
weather was the means of greatly enhancing his misery. 
To supply this deficiency in raiment, all that was given him 
was an old Indian blanket, of which he contrived by the aid 
of a wooden needle of his own manufacture, and the ravel- 
ings of his stockings, to make him, a complete suit. After 
the expiration of this year the prisoners were removed from 
Montreal up the river about 60 miles to Prison Island, for 
nearly another year. 

In August, 1782, eighteen of the prisoners formed a reso- 
lution to make their escape, a purpose much easier formed 
than executed. But to men who were separated from all 
they held dear or sacred in this world, who were in the hands 
and at the disposal of an enraged enemy, there was no op- 
position but that would flee from before them, and no diffi- 
culties but that could be surmounted. With determined re- 
solution to make their escape or perish in the attempt, they 
proceeded to put their determination into execution, by tear- 
ing up the floor of their cell, and with an old scalping knife, 
the only instrument in their possession, commenced digging 
their way to Liberty. And the hopes of treading 

" The much loved shore they sighed to leave behind," 

gave them new life and energy for the performance of the task. 
The pickets being driven down to the depth of three feet, and 
situated as they were some 30 from their cell, it afforded a 
task of no ordinary difficulty to dig beyond them . They, how- 
ever, commenced by loosening the dirt with their knife and 
stowing it away under the floor of the barracks. But finding 
it in a short time difficult to obtain air at so great a distance 



16 

from the surface, for the safety of the person digging, a rope 
was fastened to his feet ; and after laboring until exhausted, 
he was pulled back by his companions at the mouth of the 
hole. Having cleansed hinself in a tub of water prepared 
for the purpose, to prevent detection, another was stripped, 
ready to take his place. 

They continued thus to prosecute their laborious work, 
night after night, until the 10th of September, when, at 12 
o'clock, they broke the turf beyond the pickets, and heard the 
guard distinctly cry out^ ^^ All is well.^^ " That's the fact," 
said one of the company ; " the dog speaks the truth now, 
if he never did before." The animated tone in which this 
was uttered, came very near rendering ineffectual all their 
past labors ; for the guard at that moment stopped, as 
though some unusual noise had arrested his attention, and 
listened for some moments, to be sure he was not deceived. 
But finding all silent, he started forth again on his solitary 
round, as though nothing had happened to disturb him. Af- 
ter they had all crept carefully through the aperture they 
had made under the pickets, they hastened to the side of the 
river, where, fortunately for them, some drift logs had floated 
to the shore and lodged in the bushes. Of these they built 
a raft on which to cross to the South side of the river, by 
fastening them together with their blankets, which they tore 
in strips for this purpose. On this they embarked, and 
pushed boldly from shore. But finding their raft not suffi- 
ciently strong and steady to withstand the turbulent and 
rapid water of the river, they were obliged, instead of cros- 
sing, to float down with the current near the shore. They 
sailed thus quietly along for some distance from the Island, 
when they landed on the North side of the river. With all 
the stillness possible, they proceeded in search of canoes or 
some other water craft by which they might be able to cross 
to the other shore. But they were unsuccessful. 

As yet the quiet repose of the night is undisturbed, and 
darkness still rules the earth. But a light appears in the 
East. The sun is about to disclose the transactions of the 
night ; still, breathless silence reigns around. Yet, sudden 
as the lightning's vivid flash, the echo of the alarm-guns' 
" deep mDuthed thunder" greet their listening ear. What 
feelings of anxious, painful suspense now rankles in those 
aching hearts ! Are they again to return and plunge them- 
selves into the gloomy caverns from which they had with so 
great difflculty escaped ; or are they about to shake off, in 



17 

proud contempt, the shackles of lawless British imprison- 
ment, and to pursue, unmolested, their homeward course to 
the land of their nativity? Follow me, reader, and see. 

For fear of heing discovered, they dare not stir, but lay 
concealed during the day in the woods. The following night 
they proceeded cautiously up the river, and discovered three 
canoes fastened to the shore. These they took, and effected 
by their means a safe landing on the South side of the river. 
Bright hopes began to cheer them once more ; yet they were 
mingled with despair, when they considered that they were 
yet in an enemy's country, and about to enter a trackless 
forest without a pilot or compass to guide their wandering 
steps, and almost destitute also of the means of sustaining 
life. Yet there was no time to lose. A counsel was held 
among them, and it was agreed upon that they should divide 
themselves into six parties with three in each, and pursue 
different courses, concluding very reasonably that their pur- 
suers would be more likely to discover their trail, if they 
kept in one body ; and if overtaken, all would be obliged to 
suffer the penalty of their escape. Whereas, if they were 
divided, some might possibly be so fortunate as to reach 
home ; and being so divided, they might assist and protect 
each other in their lonely wanderings. The two compan- 
ions of Mr. H. were Mr. Hathaway and Mr. Stone. With 
but half a pound of meat a-piece, these distressed, disconso- 
late men set out on their perilous pedestrian wayfaring. 
They travelled on. Where night overtook them, there on 
the cold, damp ground they made their beds, and the blue 
canopy above them was their only covering. 

The second day after their departure, Mr. Stone was taken 
ill, and at his request was left by the side of a brook. With 
him they left all the food they then possessed, and with 
hearts melting with affliction and sorrow, bade a melancholy 
adieu to their perishing companion. They pressed on in 
their perilous journey as fast as their fatigued limbs would 
carry them, until the third day after their departure from 
Mr. Stone, when the painful sensations of hunger began to 
lay hold upon them so powerfully that they were obliged to 
stop. They endeavored lo alleviate the distressing pangs 
that continually gnawed upon their stomachs, by eating the 
buds of the bass-wood and the slippery-elm. But these 
seemed to arouse to a higher pitch, rather than to allay their 
present distress. They dug,a few roots; but these, fearing 
that they were poisonous, they dared not to eat. A snake 
2* 



18 

or a frog at that moment, would have been a delicious mor- 
sel fit for an epicure, and one that would have created a new 
era in their famished existence. 

Yet still they continued on their journey, although making 
but a creeping progress ; and oftentimes they would return 
at night at the same place from which they had started in 
the morning, in consequence of becoming bewildered. Suf- 
fering from hunger and thirst, the blood v\^as constantly ooz- 
ing from their parched mouths and stomachs ; and in this 
worn out and miserable condition they arrived on the West- 
ern shores of Lake Champlain, having been nine days on 
their journey, and not having tasted a mouthful of food where- 
withal to allay their hunger, except a few roots which they 
were familiar with, during the whole time. Quenching 
the r burning thirst with the waters of the lake, they reposed 
their weary limbs on its mossy banks, and, gazing upon its 
glassy surface, started back with astonishment at the fright- 
ful spsctacle of their emaciated and haggard images reflec- 
ted there. Before them lay stretched the Eastern shore, 
teeming with rich plenty, and presenting a vast variety of 
delectable scenery. How tantalizing the sight must have 
been to those worn out wanderers ; and doubly so, when 
they beheld individuals pursuing their daily avocations, and, 
as was actually the case, possessing the power of relieving 
them from their perilous condition, turn away with an ear 
that had not heard their cries, and an eye that had not been 
arrested by the demonstration of their distress, which they 
made to attract their attention. They hallooed, but their 
voices were not sufficiently loud to reach across the lake. 
They placed their tattered coats on poles, and hoisted them 
in the air. But all in vain. The silvery tide that ebbed 
and fl.owed at their feet, and the very fish themselves as they 
turned up their shiny sides and darted away through the 
water, seemed to mock their misery. Mr. H. was so ema- 
ciated on account of his sufferings, that he was able to en- 
compass his body with his hands. Finding all their efforts 
ineffectual, they sank back upon their grassy beds and giving 
up all as lost, prepared themselves for that fate which seemed 
inevitable. Wan despair had settled upon their spirits, and 
extinguished the last flickering ray of inspiring hope. 

At this critical juncture, when death stared them in the 
face, a British scouting party chanced to be passing in boats 
along the shore of the lake, which by the goodly hand of 
fortune was directed to land at the identical spot where they 



19 

were lying; and so weak were they when they arrived, as 
scarcely to be able to raise their heads or speak. All pos- 
sible attention was paid them by the British company, who 
took them on board, and gave them such nourishment as was 
befitting their famished condition. By slow degrees their 
strength of body and mind returned ; and for a time, as the 
freshening breeze wafted their vessel merrily along the broad 
bosom of the lake, their drooping spirits seemed to revive, and 
to partake of the general brightness, life, and gaiety with 
which they were surrounded. Yet soon the dreadful reality 
of their returning once more to throw themselves into that 
gloomy prison, and to renew their intolerable captivity, cast 
a dark, impenetrable gloom over their spirits, which all the 
lively and gay scenes around them could not dispel. 

In course of time they arrived at Montreal, where their 
fearful forebodings of a renewal of their captivity was but 
too plainly realized. They were treated, however, kindly, 
and every attention paid them becoming their condition, to 
restore to them their healths. They were in this situation 
until peace was declared, when they were carried around in 
a cartel-ship to Boston, and exchanged as prisoners of war. 

It was with the greatest delight and most sincere gratitude 
to God, that Mr. H. found himself again in the possession of 
liberty, the enjoyment of which he had so long been deprived. 
Bidding adieu to his companion, Mr. Hathaway, with a light 
heart he started homeward, believing that he should meet 
with friends on the way, who would welcome him and ad- 
minister to his wants, and that his toils were now finally 
ended. But, alas ! how soon was he mistaken ! Feeling 
hungry, he called at a house and begged for something to 
eat to appease the loud calls of the demon of hunger. But 
the smallest bit was refused him ; and being addressed by 
ihe base title of an "old British dog," by the inmates, he 
was ordered to leave the house. AiTectingly he related to 
them the early part he had taken in the Revolution — all the 
dangers and privations he had endured while a prisoner in 
the hands of the British, that he was now returning to his 
native home, poor and penniless, with a constitution wasted 
by want and suffering ; but all this could not melt to sym- 
pathy hearts so hard with cold and haughty pride as those 
whom he was addressing. 

Forced to leave the house without receiving a morsel, he 
passed by a stoop where sat a swill-pail filled with crusts of 
bread and other offal : from the table of which he ate a 



20 

little, and passed on. Although his emaciated and haggard 
appearance must have been revolting to decency, dressed as 
he was in the motley garb of the old Indian blanket, which 
he had himself manufactured, and which was now perfectly 
in rags, not having been cleansed or mended for the two 
years which he had worn it ; yet he was a human being, 
and as such, whether Britain or not, had claims upon the 
charity of his fellow-man. Retiring from the city, he sat 
down upon a stone ; and that heart which had long borne 
cheerfully a weight of affliction and misfortune seldom suf- 
fered by human nature, now swollen with indignation and 
sorrow, as he recalled to mind the scene he had just witnes- 
sed ; and no longer being able to restrain its deep, unuttera- 
ble emotion, gave full vent to its gushing grief. Oh ! Hu- 
manity, in those days of severe trial and affliction, whither 
hadst thou fled ? But now, is there a heart so cold, so hard, 
as not to cherish feelings of sympathy and benevolence for 
the unfortunate ? If there are such, let them seek for habi- 
tations in the dens and caves of mountains, far from society ; 
for they are unfit to live and associate with their fellow-men. 
While the big tears of sorrow were coursing their way down 
his care-worn cheeks, a noise like the feeblecry of an infant 
behind him, arrested his attention. Turning around, he dis- 
covered wrapped in a blanket, a young infant about five days 
old. Taking it in his arms, he carried it to the first public 
house, where he exchanged it, giving it his name for what 
he could eat. Many years after this, while travelling through 
Massachusetts, he called at this inn ; but in the robust and 
intelligent young man he saw there, he could not be made 
to believe he beheld the weak and tender infant which many 
years before had done him so great a service, until he was 
assured of the fact, and that he still bore his name. 

Having remained here until he felt the blood of health 
coursing in his veins and his spirits revived, he started on- 
ward for Connecticut, where he arrived in course of time at 
his brother Hezekiah's, who still resided there. He remained 
here until March following, when neglected Hymen per- 
formed that service which, under many painful though past 
existing circumstances, he was obliged to delay until the 
present time. With his wife he started for Vermont. On 
arriving there, to his infinite surprise and joy he found all 
his friends and companions who had separated from him on 
the shores of the St. Lawrence, quietly settled down again ; 
but they had given up all hopes of ever more seeing him, 



21 

concluding, from his long absence, that he must have per- 
ished by hunger in the woods, or been torn in pieces by wild 
beasts. But nothing could exceed his astonishment and ex- 
ultation, upon greeting, as though risen from the dead, his 
companion, Mr. Stone, who, after being left at the brook be- 
fore mentioned, had endeavored to grope his way back, soli- 
tary and alone, through the woods, until he arrived here 
completely worn out. 

Mr. H. lived in Vermont, enjoying life peacefully and 
happily for half a century, when he moved with his only son, 
James Hutchinson, in January, 1835, to Geneseo, Living- 
ston county, N. Y., where he has since lived. He had ar- 
rived at the age of 86, when he died ; possessed a strong con- 
stitution ; and although enfeebled by age, was yet in the 
full possession of all the faculties of his mind. He received 
a pension from the Government of eighty dollars per year, 
for his services durino; the Revolution. He was the vouno-- 
est of the family of four, who are all living in Tunbridge, 
Orange county, Vermont ; and these, as well as his ances- 
tors, are all remarkable for their longevity. His mother 
lived until she was 95 ; and he states that the last time he 
visited his grandmother, she was able, at the age of 100, to 
spin a run of cotton a day, besides doing her house- work. 
She died at the advanced age of 105. 

But Mr. H., having at length arrived at a ripe old age, de- 
parted this life at his residence in Geneseo, on the 11th of 
February, 1843. Age and infirmity had long detained him 
in retirement, previous to his death ; yet the admiration of 
the wise- and the aifection of the good accompanied him ; 
and as he was at length called to lay his head on the pillow 
of death, a spark of secret joy seemed kindled in his breast as 
he turned a retrospective glance over the past, and could be- 
hold nothing wMch could dim the brightness of his declining 
years ; but that all his actions combined to render him the 
homage due to departing merit — that the veneration which 
had accompanied him while living, was expressed with sol- 
emn earnestness when he was called lo follow those fellow- 
companions in the sacred cause of freedom, of whom nearly 
all had gone before him. 

It was a degree of satisfaction to him to beguile the tedious 
hours of retirement in which it was his inclination to dwell, 
by studying the sacred volume, to which a greater share of 
his time was devoted ; and at appropriate seasons, with his 
•promising flock of grandchildren around him, it was pleasing 



22 

both to him and to us, stored as his mind was with Revolu- 
tionary lore, to relate incidents connected with that period of 
our history, appropriately denominated as the "time which- 
tried men's souls," some heart-stirring, I assure you, and 
others highly pleasing and instructive. The readiness with ; 
which he called to mind every minute occurrence, even as 
far back as childhood, showed him to be possessed of a tena- 
cious memory ; and also how instructive is the example and 
worthy of imitation, when we see a man full of years and 
honor descend to the grave with the full assurance of ending 
a life " well spent." The infirmities of old age want the 
reflections of a well-spent youth. These are the only means 
capable of supporting us in the last stage of our pilgrimage. 
The early impressions of childhood, however imperceptibly 
by us may have been stamped upon our memories, come 
stealing back to us through the long list of years that are 
past, cheering us with those bright visions whose very re- 
membrance sends the blood thrilling through our veins, en- 
livening us long after the stern realities of life have quenched 
the flushings of the eye, and time has wrought deep furrows 
upon the forehead. 

Such, reader, is the history of a man, the sternness of 
whose soul in the cause of freedom, has been tried in the ser- 
vice of his country, the virtue and benevolence of whom has 
manifested itself in private life. He died as he had always 
lived, a sincere /Wewd, a, patriot, and a Christian. 

Peace shall secure his ashes keep, 

And stretch her wings above his bed ; 
Fair Virtue at his tomb shall weep, 

And Freedom mourn her honored dead. 

Sleep, Warrior, sleep ! gallant of yore, 
Yet sleep within your dreamless grave: 

The blast of war shall rouse no more 
The slumberiiijr ashes of the brave/ 




1 



i;^ 



i 



if 



i 



I 







A"^' - 






2: 






■ , X -^ ^0 



,00, 










A '^ ^ , X -* ,0^ 




.\ , , „ '/. '' ■ 

° /?^^^^^ '^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 

* ^^^^^K' \ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 

^ '"^^^^^y-- Treatment Date: April 2010 

^^^^ ^ ,.^^^ J PreservationTechnologies 

^ "^ ^ A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

C' 'S>^ S^'' * 111 Thomson Park Drive 

2, ° '<> '^^' -" Cranberry Township, PA 16066 

^2^ ^ ' .i (724)779-2111 



^/M£'' 



■::*/^'-'*^>\'"' 






\ ^t. v^^ 



^>^#^y 



v^- '^^ 









%■ -^ , X 




.^^^ 



* .<^" -" 










.# .V 



>. .^^ 



oo 




-^ .^^ 













cf' 



.v^. 



,\v 



-r '^, ^/^cr^ .^ 



.'p << 









-\sf 



,:<^a^'^ 







1 ; "/ 






v\ • 






A' 















'/- * N \V 



'^^ 










■^^''- 









.^'' 






V •?■ 



^ <^- 



'^\%^,f' :MM^- -.. 






LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




011 800 612 4 



